Come Away With Me in the Night
by scifiromance
Summary: With the Captain spiralling into a tunnel of dark depression as they travel through the empty void in space, Chakotay has been left to deal with the fallout of the situation on his own, only to find unexpected solace in the one crewmember who seems to be maintaining her sanity through the boredom and strain... C/7 'Night' AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/n: After stuffing my brain with as much Chinese history as it'll hold for the moment, I've decided to relax by writing for enjoyment instead. This is my take on 'Night', not exactly a vintage episode in my view, but this spin on it improves it for me. I hope you all enjoy. :)**

The darkness really was inescapable, absolute. It was as if space itself had been drenched in ink by some contrary, omnipotent artist; the stars that had mapped out Voyager's path home, literally and figuratively, had been blotted out. Without that guide, that reassurance of something as constant in the far flung Delta Quadrant as in the home stretches of the Alpha Quadrant, the venerable ship's crew, who had arguably been through much worse than enforced inactivity, felt truly _lost _for the first time in almost five years.

Chakotay, sitting at the heart of the pressure cooker that was the Bridge, was perfectly aware of this potent fear; it had after all felled the previously indomitable Kathryn Janeway. Her demons had thrust the control, or the management, of this situation into his hands as they'd began to consume her from the inside out. The ripple effect of the Captain falling from the top of this pack of cards had been felt down to the lowliest crewman, her fear and despondency had infected them all since they'd entered this…void thirteen days ago.

Had it really been less than two weeks since they'd last glimpsed real, _living _space? Part of Chakotay didn't want to believe that time was deceiving them so cruelly, but he was pragmatic enough to realise that, at the moment, there was course but to continue and cope with it. A sigh rattled through his mind, he didn't see the point of actually expressing it, it would just make everyone nervier if he weakened too. Even Tuvok, standing stock still at Tactical, seemed to be feeling the effects of the strain. New lines pursed his silent mouth, his hands clenched ever so slightly at his sides. Chakotay turned his gaze away from the Vulcan, irrationally shaken by seeing a tiny fragment of his own feelings reflected in the 'emotionless' man. As he again stared out at the black cloak the viewsceen was projecting into the room, a flash of black humour, nurtured from his Maquis days, lit his mind; from a purely tactical point of view, this was probably the safest they'd been since the Caretaker's array had lassoed the Valjean and Voyager in the Badlands and dragged them across the galaxy. There was nothing; not a single threat or bright spot.

The terse silence of the Bridge was broken by the permissive hiss of the turbolift doors. Showing just how restive they all were, all necks in the room snapped around to witness this mundane event. It was Seven of Nine, whatever she was never mundane, who walked confidently out to join them on the Bridge, her steps as militarily concise as ever. Her eyes settled on the viewscreen, but Chakotay didn't see the ubiquitous flinch cross her striking features, she just observed that yes, they were still in the void, and then seemed to dismiss it as she stepped down towards Chakotay's chair, PADD loosely in hand. Harry's attention was fully on her, as eager for any stimulation as a chained up dog. "What have you been up to Seven?" he asked curiously, "You've been out of Astrometrics most of the day…"

There was little to _do _in Astrometrics and they all knew it, but it wasn't Seven's style to ignore a direct question. "Lieutenant Paris…prevailed upon me to assist him with his 'Captain Proton' holodeck programme."

Chakotay found himself fighting a smile, Seven's tone and tiny shrug verged, with her subtle variances, on appearing long-suffering. "What character did you play?"

Seven arched her eyebrows at him, she was used to Ensign Kim taking such an arbitrary interest in her, but not the esteemed First Officer. " He assigned me 'Constance Goodheart' Commander."

"Con…Constance Goodheart?" Harry forced out somewhat incredulously, and Chakotay knew he was having trouble equating Seven with the character.

"The screaming secretary?" Chakotay questioned, amusement trumping dubiousness as he couldn't help but smirk at her.

"_I _did not scream." Seven assured him firmly, before feeling a flicker of embarrassment as she realised she sounded too proud of the fact, it went without saying. "You are familiar with Captain Proton Commander?" she questioned, peering at him intently. Perhaps she'd wholly misjudged his interests in the year she'd known him.

Chakotay shrugged, "It's been a long couple of weeks." He pointed out good-humouredly.

"Yes." Seven conceded slowly, not sure, as her eyes swept over the strained faces around her, whether it was a pertinent statement to agree to. Technically time had not slowed down, but she knew that it felt that way to everyone, herself included in many ways, irrational or not.

"So, if you weren't screaming in the clutches of Chaotica, what exactly did you get up to on the holodeck?" Chakotay pressed her.

"I neutralised the robotic threat within 2.3 minutes of entering the programme and Lieutenant Paris allowed me to leave, since Captain Proton was no longer in danger." Seven answered.

Maybe it was the serious tone in which she reported this, or maybe it was because he'd seen the 1950's box on wheels that Tom insisted was Chaotica's most fearsome weapon, but the thought of their ex-Borg taking the trouble to 'neutralise' it brought bubbles of uncontrollable laughter bursting out of Chakotay's throat. "You…You _neutralised _it…" He tried to choke out in reply but ended up buckled over with laughter, practically gasping for air.

Seven, painfully aware of the Captain's deteriorating mental state, began to fear that Chakotay had lapsed into hysteria and tentatively touched his shaking shoulder. "Commander?" she questioned uncertainly.

Chakotay's sense of perspective returned as he was met with her openly concerned, even anxious, gaze and he straightened up again, flashing her a kind smile of reassurance. "I'm alright Seven, really. I just haven't laughed like that in a long time, that's all."

Seven visibly relaxed, and she paused thoughtfully for a moment before remarking, "I suppose I proved to Chaotica that resistance is futile."

Chakotay chuckled at her deadpan tone, surprised but pleased to see the bright glint of humour in her eyes "It certainly sounds like it." He replied easily, giving her a grateful grin. He'd forgotten what a tonic laughter could be, and right now he certainly needed the respite. Somehow the fact that the source of the relief was the most unexpected person made it all the more potent, he could feel his whole mood lifting.

"I do not think Lieutenant Paris will invite me back however, his enjoyment of the programme seems to come from the sheer ineffectiveness of the battles." Seven told him drily.

"I don't know, your take on it sounds more fun to me." Chakotay teased, glancing furtively down at the PADD in Seven's hand as the rest of the Bridge gradually lost interest in the novelty of them conversing, "Is that the latest status report?" he asked in a low, confidential tone.

Seven's frame again took on its habitual ramrod like stiff formality as she answered just as quietly, "Affirmative Commander."

Chakotay couldn't hold back a muted sigh, he saw the fact that the situation was unchanged in one glance at her face. "Right." He muttered, before suggesting a little louder, "I'm due to go to the Mess Hall, care to join me?"

Confusion clouded Seven's face for a long moment before she suppressed it with obedience. "As you wish." She murmured, turning back to the turbolift with one twist of her supple body.

Chakotay moved to follow her, "Harry, take your turn in command while I go for a bite to eat." He ordered smoothly.

"Yes sir." Harry replied swiftly, though with noticeably less eagerness than Chakotay would have expected if he'd made the same offer two weeks before. Being in command when it almost seemed as if the ship wasn't moving at all wasn't exactly emulating Captain Kirk.

Seven stepped further back into the turbolift as Chakotay slipped in to join her, her inexplicably damp hand tightening around the PADD as her heart gave a disconcerted flutter in her chest. She doubted he really wanted her to join him as he ate, he'd never pressed his company on her before and she'd always been content with that. In fact it reinforced her respect for him that he'd accepted her presence pragmatically enough to neither pointedly avoid her nor foist excessive friendliness on her in an awkward attempt to mould her humanity. When she saw him glance at the PADD again, she belatedly came to a conclusion about his reasoning, "I presume you did not wish the Bridge staff to overhear my report?" she asked him bluntly.

Chakotay nodded slightly, glad for her perceptiveness, it made things easier. "It would probably be better if they didn't, but then I don't know what's in it yet."

Seven allowed herself a sigh, "Nothing has altered enough to elicit either further stress in the crew, or fresh hope." She informed him honestly, "I found enough navigational markers to set us on a marginally more efficient course through this expanse, but I still estimate that it will take at least two years to return to normal space." His, up until then, strong stance slumped for a moment as he exhaled heavily and the sharp stab of helpless guilt she felt brought the urge to apologise, though, in logical terms, none of this was her fault, to her lips, "I am sorry Commander…"

"This isn't your fault." Chakotay told her quickly, echoing her own thoughts more firmly, "We're just going to have to learn to deal with it." Seven handed him the PADD and he gave it a cursory glance. He had no idea how she'd found any navigational markings in this place and, though she'd undoubtedly noted her methods meticulously, he knew it would mostly go over his head.

"Are you returning to the Bridge?" Seven questioned, her uncertainty evident as she shot him a sidelong glance. Neither of them had yet ordered the turbolift to move.

"I wasn't lying when I said I needed something to eat." Chakotay told her with a small smile, "And I guess, between writing this report and indulging Tom by playing with Captain Proton, that you haven't made time for a meal either?"

"No, I have not." Seven conceded slowly, studying his face for clues.

Chakotay could feel her gaze and smiled at her encouragingly. Had he really been so distant that she was so easily shaken by him reaching a hand out to her? He knew the answer to that, in the last few minutes they'd talked more in one conversation than they had over the entire previous year. "Then let's go." He urged her, issuing the order to the turbolift before she could back out, "Deck 2." As the turbolift started with a mild jolt, he turned to her sheepishly, "Maybe I'm hoping you can make me laugh again, I need more of that."

Seven wasn't sure how to respond to that, a resentful sadness prickling at her. Chakotay was coping well, but many of her crewmates were not helping him, or her, to do so. Finally, a wry reply came to her, "Well, it may or may not amuse you to hear that Ensign Kim will already be sitting in the 'big chair' for certain, I've witnessed him on a previous occasion."

Chakotay chuckled, "You think I didn't know about that? I've seen it myself, and to my mind he's not breaking any laws." Both of them grimaced for a moment, thinking involuntarily of the Captain's attachment to the vestiges of her office, the perks she got in exchange for all that responsibility. Responsibility she'd now buckled under…

Shaking the thought off, a small smile graced Seven's features. "I do not know of any such specific Starfleet regulation." She assured him.

* * *

As the Mess Hall doors opened to reveal a relatively large crowd inside for the small ship, Seven instinctively stepped back, feeling overwhelmed for a moment, but Chakotay held her steady with a light grip on her shoulder. "I guess the replicator restrictions must be holding up." He remarked, "Everyone's keeping Neelix busy in the galley." The crew's necessary duties were becoming so light that replicator usage, mostly to combat boredom, had shot up to the point where Chakotay had advised everyone to eat in the Mess Hall so they could keep their rations for distractions other than food.

"Perhaps I should assist him…" Seven began concernedly, glancing over at the Talaxian's flushed face as he manned the galley singlehandedly with several dishes being rotated over the cooking stations.

"Let him keep busy." Chakotay advised gently, "He's having a hard time, a fear of nothingness apparently."

"Understandable." Seven murmured, "Although 'nothingness' is probably equitable to death. Many crewmates say they feel lost, detached from life, here.

"What about you?" Chakotay asked, then backtracked a little as he realised how blunt that sounded, "I mean, you seem to be handling this better than most…"

Seven wasn't offended, "I admit that it is sometimes…disorientating." She said quietly, "But I never saw the stars outside when I was in a Borg vessel, there could be years between me seeing anything other than Borg technology and when I did leave anything beyond assimilation was irrelevant." She breathed a sigh as she saw him pale, "As for the emptiness, after the…trauma of being reduced to a one voice after a lifetime as part of the Collective, this expanse doesn't not disturb me excessively."

Chakotay had to swallow, looking at her not with pity but with empathy and respect. "I guess it's all a matter of perspective." He commented as they collected their respective dishes from the galley.

"Precisely." Seven answered as she headed determinedly towards the only empty table. Chakotay was glad to follow her, several crewmates had started to head towards him with purpose in their eyes but had backed off in stunned surprise when they saw him with Seven. As everyone did, they'd been waiting to ask about the Captain, but he was relieved that he could avoid that altogether for once. He needed an escape from that, just for today at least.

They sat down at the table and ate in silence for several minutes before Chakotay realised that, obviously, she'd leave it to him to start a new thread of conversation. "So, apart from Captain Proton, how have you been filling your days so far?" he asked pleasantly.

"With regeneration and studying the expanse." Seven responded robotically, before a mildly exotic blush tinged her features as she was met with his pointed 'that's not what I meant' look. "The Doctor has endeavoured to introduce me to music, it has interesting mathematical properties." She confided shyly, "Specifically he has introduced me to singing and playing the piano."

Chakotay smiled to himself, only Seven would focus on the math in music. "I remember hearing you sing in the World War II simulation, you definitely have a talent for it." He encouraged her warmly, "Frankly I'm surprised the Doctor hasn't cornered you as a duet partner before now."

A soft laugh that made him jump in surprise escaped Seven, "He is in the process of trying to, I assure you."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from our good operatic Doctor." Chakotay replied, "Are you really learning the piano from scratch? That brings back memories, my mother was a wonderful piano player."

Seven's face lit with interest, "Did she teach you to play also?"

Chakotay shook his head regretfully, "Unfortunately I was a pretty impatient child and so a nightmare to teach, I never got past 'Chopsticks'."

Seven's brow crinkled, trying to picture Chakotay acting impatient. He was one of the more patient humans she'd interacted with in her opinion. "I have progressed past that point." She admitted with a modest shrug, "But then, I have had a lot of time to practice."

"And it seems you will for a while yet." Chakotay muttered darkly before forcing himself to smile at her again, "I'd really like to hear you sometime."

Seven nodded, "I believe your critique would be more…practical than the Doctor's."

Chakotay chuckled again, starting to realise that she was purposefully being more talkative and humorous, and that it was probably for his sake. He'd caught her occasional glances of pensive concern. "I'll hold you to the promise of a performance Seven, but I can't promise in return that my 'critique' will be practical, okay?"

Seven studied him for a split second before answering with her habitual bird like nod. "Understood Commander."

**A/n: PLEASE REVIEW! :D I think this could stand alone as a one-shot but now I'm really tempted to take it into a full 'romantic developments' AU, let me know what you think of that plan. ;) Also, I realise that the Doctor didn't start teaching Seven to sing until 'Someone to Watch Over Me' in canon, but I decided to speed that up a little. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: My internet connection has been really intermittent the past few days, and I ended up continually adding to this chapter since I couldn't do much else computer wise. It's more serious in parts than I intended, but I hope you enjoy it. :)**

Chakotay inhaled a deep, bracing breath as his feet shuffled reluctantly to stand in front of the doors to his Captain's quarters. Unclenching one of the hands hanging by his sides he gave the doorbell a light press with his thumb. His ears strained, despite bitter experience, to hear any sign of response, but all he could hear was the thud of blood through his own ears growing louder as anger began to win the battle against disappointment within him. This was becoming a ritual, hell it was _already _a ritual. Hadn't this same scene played out every day during the first week in the void? Kathryn had withdrawn to her quarters like a hibernating bear to its cave, and he was left playing the feckless hunter who'd taken it upon himself to taunt her out. It hadn't worked of course, but he'd went through the motions that first week like an exemplary First Officer and friend, trying to pull out more of an explanation than what she'd given him that first day, moments after he'd delivered Seven's initial analysis of the situation, that she 'needed time'. Well, he'd given her time. He'd held back his anxiety and resentment as she kept the door resolutely closed that first week, but had always given her the chance to open up by positioning himself here every morning. His patience with that had eventually ran thin, although that stubborn streak that had led to so many of their clashes, and what he privately suspected had maintained her respect for him, had pushed him into a least trying once this week. Maybe something would change…

As that weak hope limped through his mind, he decided to help it along. With a flick of his wrist he pressed his whole palm against the doorbell, sighing heavily as the relentless, droning ring he elicited echoed down the empty corridor. Still, the doors didn't budge and he found his voice rising above the sound of the bell, "Kathryn, let me in." He demanded, his fraying voice harsh. When that didn't work, he surrendered by letting his hand fall from the doorbell, plunging him back into silence. "Captain…" He started awkwardly, "Please…"

The seconds stretched out painfully and he was about to turn away, cloaked in resigned bitterness, her voice, quaking but still with the bark of command, reached him through the barrier. "En…Enter!"

Chakotay shot through the slowly opening doors so quickly that he almost stumbled, not helped by the darkness that confronted him as he entered, his eyes struggling to adapt. He could barely see the outlines of furniture at first, Janeway's petite, crouched form on her sofa blurring into her surroundings. "Computer, lights…" He started to command shakily.

"Belay that." Janeway snapped hoarsely, her laboured, almost panicky, breathing, audible to her visitor even over the distance of half the room separating them. "It's better this way Commander."

Chakotay was stumped by her deadened tone, a shiver of foreboding fleeing down his spine. "Is it?" he finally managed to reply. Almost all of the lights outside of this room had been made brighter, the crew's attempt to compensate for the black vacuum surrounding them, but their Captain seemed to have followed the opposite impulse, shutting herself in this dark corner. It almost felt as if the void outside had entered this place, was consuming it. That thought was enough for him to reach forward and click on the freestanding lamp beside him, casting an insipid circle of light over him. She winced, her eerily huge eyes glinting at him accusingly for a long moment. "How are you?" he asked quietly as he unconsciously stepped back from her.

"How are the crew?" she threw back at him, through her normally silky voice was brittle, the natural smokiness of her tones seeming to burn her throat.

Chakotay had to take a deep breath, the retort that they'd be better if their Captain was at least _trying_ to get them through this at the very tip of his tongue. "They're…coping." He answered, carefully but honestly. After all what else could any of them do? As he heard her sigh of relief and watched her slump forward, her head in her hands, he added gently but pointedly, "They'd be better if they could see that you're okay."

Janeway's bark of a laugh in reply disturbed him almost as much as her spoken words, "Would they be Commander? Are you really sure about that?" She rose abruptly from her perch on the edge of the sofa, circling the darkened edges of the room until she halted sharply in front of the window. "I mean, who am I, or you for that matter, to speak for the 145 souls on this ship?"

"I _know _because they've told me Kathryn!" Chakotay told her exasperatedly, "I've been fielding off questions about where you've been for over two weeks now, don't you realise that everyone has been worried for you while they're trying to understand this situation themselves?"

He'd barely spat out the hurt, frustrated words before she spun to face him with the speed and force of a tornado, her fixation briefly shifting from the bleakness outside to the gulf between them. "_I _stranded them in this situation!" she snarled at him shrilly as he realised that under her taut, inward glare her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

Chakotay strode towards her, his hand warily outstretched to restrain and console her. "I know that this…expanse seems endless right now, but we _are _going to get through it…"

The Captain turned sharply back to the window, rejecting every ounce of understanding he was offering by keeping her hunched back to him. "And what about the next _expanse_ Chakotay? Or the next hostile alien territory? Not to mention the Borg, I've earned the Queen's enmity ten times over!" She paused for breath, stalking over to her diminutive dining table and snatching up one of the many discarded coffee cups that littered it, tilting her head back swiftly to drain whatever dregs filled Chakotay's nostrils with the rank, cloying smell of days old, cold, stagnant coffee that had penetrated deep into these quarters since the last time he'd stood in them. When she'd drained every last drop she gave her head one definitive, despairing shake, "This place is just the tip of the iceberg, don't you see that?" she choked out, her staring gaze vacant as her jaw set angrily, "My decision to follow the Caretaker's beck and call, to put the hallowed Prime Directive above the lives of this crew, stranded us here! They're going to spend their lives hopping from one danger to another because I made the wrong choice!"

"That choice saved the lives of a million Ocampa." Chakotay reminded her quietly, gazing painfully at her unrecognisable features, harrowed by guilt and self-hatred.

"And doomed my crew!" Janeway retorted bitterly as her lost, empty gaze sought the nothingness outside her window again. "Let's be honest, the reserves the Caretaker sent to that city will have run out by now, those Ocampa have either starved to death or had to go to the surface and were promptly slaughtered by the Kazon, since in my infinite wisdom destroying the array was justified interference but I would never stoop to finishing the job and kicking the Kazon off that planet…"

Chakotay regarded her disbelievingly, "We never could've taken on Jabin's whole fleet and survived, you know that!" He replied sharply before forcing himself to give the rationality she was providing for herself, "The crew have followed you, loyally, for five years now Kathryn. Don't do them the disservice of not trusting that loyalty now." He shifted, forcing her to meet his eye, "It wasn't just _your _choice, I brought my crew to join yours, now we both need to live by that choice and serve our crew as we ask them to obey us."

"But I didn't ask your opinion when I decided to destroy the array, did I?" Janeway reminded him darkly, "You went along with me out of pragmatism, the Valjean was a lot smaller than Voyager and you couldn't go through the array without my crew's help. If the choice had been yours, would you have chosen a lifelong gauntlet through the Delta Quadrant or a ticket home?"

Chakotay froze, stiffening further when he saw the glint of bitter triumph in Kathryn's eyes, obviously that split second pause was all the answer she needed. He gave her a verbal one though, as much as he could honestly say, "I don't know." He admitted tiredly, "I've spent just as many nights as you have lying awake asking myself that same question and I've never come up with a great answer." He met her hardened eyes levelly as resignation and frustration got the better of him, "The only answer I _do _have is that is doesn't matter anymore, we don't have any other choice now that to stick with the path we're on."

"It matters to _me_!" The Captain cried out brokenly, her chest heaving as she tried to regain grip on her decision, on her stubbornness. "I can't…" She croaked out, "I _won't _risk making the same mistakes over and over again…"

"What does that mean?" Chakotay questioned her incredulously, not ready to let her off the hook. "Just because you've spiralled into regretting a…difficult decision…" He refused to play her game and call it the wrong decision, he knew perfectly well that if they had used the array, Janeway would be trapped in guilt over the massacred Ocampa rather than thinking of how she'd put her crew first. "…you're just going to stop making decisions? Relinquish command?"

Kathryn gave him the ghost of a relieved smile before swiftly turning her back on him once more, her gaze locked on the void confronting her outside. "It's better this way Chakotay." She whispered, eerily echoing almost exactly the first words they'd exchanged just minutes before.

Pity pushed aside Chakotay's crystallising feelings of betrayal for a moment as he stared at her crumpled form, already retreating back into the dark. He'd always known, in the back of his mind, that she was an emotional time bomb. He'd witnessed the battles between two warring aspects of her personality too often to believe otherwise. There was the dedicated Starfleet officer, bound to protocol and diktat so tightly that bending the rules hurt like a physical wound, and then there was the toxic mix of indebtedness to her crew and a possessiveness of her command status which led on an unwavering path back to the Alpha Quadrant, whether their odds of surviving the journey were low or not. For the past five years he'd been dragged along with her as she sped along a mental track that made her certain they'd get home, the idea that there was no alternative only getting more tenacious in her head every time they hit an obstacle. Now through, this void had served as a sharp bend in the track and she'd utterly derailed, her demons finally pouncing on her when she'd had to pause in the pursuit of her goal. Maybe she'd recover, maybe not, but Chakotay couldn't stand here and watch her flail, not now. "It's the easy way Kathryn." He finally replied, unable to keep the sorrow and resentment from his voice as he turned tail and left her as she had abandoned him and their crew.

* * *

Harry Kim was on his feet, his expression undecided between being eager or pensive, as soon as Chakotay joined the senior officers in the Briefing Room for their daily status reports. "How's the Captain?"

Chakotay managed to suppress the urge to wince, but his glance Harry's way was still rather withering. "She's put me in command for the time being Ensign." He informed him coldly, guilt prickling him as Harry backed off awkwardly, his lips starting to move in apology. "She's…having difficulty coping, we'll have to wait her out, but until then…"

"Understood Commander." Harry interrupted him mutedly, his eyes downcast. Chakotay sensed that the issue of the Captain's health would soon become truly taboo now that he'd admitted there was something amiss with her, but perhaps that wouldn't be a bad thing for a few days until they all learned how to accept the situation.

"Yeah, I understand, I'm going stir-crazy in Engineering!" B'Elanna piped up irritably to break the ice of the moment, "I've had my crew run every possible piece of maintenance I can think of over the past two weeks, this ship is running as well as it did the day it was piloted out of the Utopia Planetia spacedock, we're sitting down there twiddling our thumbs!"

"Almost makes you wish for the invigoration of a brief Kazon or Hirogen attack doesn't it?" Tom commented, his usual light humour sounding bitter and flat as he received only an agitated sigh from B'Elanna in response.

"Yeah right, from one extreme to another!" She barked at him.

"I can suggest minor modifications in the pursuit of efficiency." Seven suggested to the exasperated Klingon coolly.

B'Elanna actually paused to consider this, something that shocked everyone else in the room considering how many times each of them had had to defuse an argument between two of Voyager's most obstinate women. "I can't believe I'm about to say this…" B'Elanna muttered with a tired chuckle, "…but I think my staff would be glad of your work ideas for once." Her gratitude was tempered by the knowing look she shot the ex-Borg, "Just because I'm agreeing under these exceptional circumstances doesn't mean I'll give in to all of your ideas for efficiency for the rest of the trip, okay?"

Seven let her lips twitch upwards as she nodded solemnly. "Understood Lieutenant."

Chakotay looked fondly between the two of them as the others in the room were awestruck by this unusual compromise. He knew that B'Elanna and Seven actually held each other in a great deal of respect, as long as they didn't get in each other's way too often. B'Elanna had even confided to him after a particularly antagonistic argument in Engineering that had mysteriously dissipated as soon as he'd dragged the two of them out to mediate that a lot of the bluster was merely to keep the Engineering staff alert and on their best behaviour. "Good." He concluded warmly before becoming distracted when he finally noticed that there was someone missing. "Where's the Doctor?" he asked in surprise3. Normally the Doctor loved to participate, often outside his official remit, in officer briefings.

Tom cleared his throat, "I think he's deactivated himself. He was getting stressed himself trying to keep everyone's anxieties down…" He trailed off, giving Neelix an apologetic glance before adding acridly, "If only he realised he's rubbing that ability in our faces, I'd love to get a break from staring at the blank viewscreen all day, sitting watching the autopilot…"

"I think we all wish that sometimes Lieutenant, but we can't." Chakotay cut him off sharply, "If the Doctor wants to be counted as a senior officer he should be here…" He vented, stopping himself with a deep breath when he felt the friends' anxious, fearful, eyes on him. "It doesn't matter." He dismissed his own argument with a heavy sigh, "As long as he can be activated to treat the crew." It was probably better if he could speak to the Doctor alone anyway, to discuss prescribing the Captain some potent anti-depressants. Feeling repentant for his earlier outburst, he leaned back in his chair in attempt to relax himself and them, "Maybe we can't deactivate ourselves, but there's no reason we need all shifts fully manned either, we need something to lift everyone's boredom at least off-duty. Any suggestions?"

They all looked to Neelix, but the Talaxian, normally so exuberant at even the driest of briefings, seemed to have shrunk in on himself, gazing back at them all with lost, helpless eyes. It was Harry who filled the gap. "We could have a party…" He suggested tentatively, "There's not much to celebrate, but…"

"No, it could be great!" Tom broke in, "I mean, how many chances are we going to have where most, if not all, of the crew are able and willing to attend?" He gave Neelix, sitting beside him, an encouraging grin, "You'll need to help me arrange something that big Neelix."

Neelix responded with a wobbly smile, "I'll do my very best to help Tom."

"Great!" Tom replied, then paused briefly, pondering the logistics, "It'll take me at least a couple of days to design an amazing holo-programme though, do you think people will be willing to wait that long?"

Chakotay shrugged, smiling with relief, "Considering how long we've had nothing, I think anticipation can keep us going for a few days for something really good."

"I think your problem of staring at a blank viewscreen on the Bridge could be alleviated by transmitting an image of normal space from the Astrometrics database onto the viewscreen." Seven suggested thoughtfully.

"That would certainly help me feel better!" Tom told her happily.

Chakotay regarded Seven in surprise, "That _is _a great idea Seven. As long as we'll still be keeping tabs on what's really outside then to get a reprieve from the darkness during a Bridge shift would be wonderful."

"I will still track our movement through the void in Astrometrics." Seven confirmed before her eyes dipped away from the praise, "It was actually Lieutenant Tuvok's idea."

Chakotay turned to thank Tuvok, but saw at once that neither the Vulcan nor Seven wanted to elaborate on where the idea had come from. Instead, his attention went back to Seven, "How soon can you do it?" he asked her gently.

"Now." Seven answered quickly, rising from her chair and heading straight for the room's wall console, her finger's dancing cleanly over the buttons.

"Well then, if no one has anything else, this meeting is adjourned." Chakotay declared, adding as the rest eagerly stood up from the table, "And tell everyone that they're allowed to help with this party as much as they want."

A chorus of thanks rang out as they left, but Chakotay didn't immediately follow them. It was Tuvok's turn to command the Bridge and he found himself at a loss. In the normal everyday running of the ship his role as First Officer, basically the main manager of the crew, was a busy one but with everyone's duties so drastically reduced he had little to organise. His options were either standing on the Bridge as a fifth wheel or retreating back to the lonely solitude of his quarters to write superfluous reports or read another book. He'd never thought of himself as someone who was easily bored, but the sheer unrelenting boredom of this void was driving him crazier than anything else about the situation…

"I have altered the viewscreen image as requested Commander." Seven's clear, precise voice interrupted his thoughts. He'd forgotten she hadn't left with the others.

"Oh, uh, good." He assured her distractedly as he stood up, an inspired idea hitting him as she accepted his rather rude dismissal with a silent nod and moved towards the door. "Seven…" He reached out for her elbow to hold her back, sheepishly letting her go as she jumped in surprise at the touch. "Is that offer of a piano concert still open?" he asked awkwardly, trying to smile at her encouragingly.

Seven blinked at him for a moment, even more startled than when he'd held her back. Automatically, her composure bounced back in on her like an elastic band, "Of course…if you wish." She found herself swallowing, an irrational self-consciousness gripping her, as his smile widened in apparent anticipation. "I thought you'd forgotten the suggestion." She admitted.

Chakotay shook his head, "Not quite. I remembered, when I heard about the Doctor deactivating himself, that you would've lost your audience and I'm happy to step in."

"I appreciate that, although I doubt you will prove as eager to…guide me as the Doctor always seems to be." Seven said wryly, "Do you wish to accompany me to the holodeck now?"

Chakotay answered her question by falling companionably in with her even stride. "The point in that is I won't be _able _to guide you." He chuckled, his attention focused on Seven's face. She seemed more sombre than usual, although he supposed it was very hard to tell with her. Maybe she'd been, privately, just as amused by her escapades within Captain Proton as he had been and that had softened her the day before. "Are you okay with the Doctor taking himself out of the picture? I know he's company for you…"

"I do not necessarily need company." Seven answered defensively, cringing as she felt him stiffen beside her, "I did not mean that…" She stopped herself again, cursing the sudden clumsiness of her thoughts. Taking a breath, she tried her explanation again, "The Doctor's company was becoming more stressful than comforting in recent days." She forced out, "As Lieutenant Paris indicated, he's been finding treating the crew's mental strain very challenging and dispiriting."

"He feels helpless…" Chakotay murmured, more to himself than to her, but Seven's enhanced hearing picked up on the words.

"Yes, I believe so." She agreed softly, glancing at conflict that had suddenly clouded his face. She'd been trying to adapt to the stress of those around her but it was difficult. No matter how under developed her social skills were on an individual basis, she'd been part of a whole for long enough to be sensitive to collective changes in mood. The void itself disturbed her in a way that was relatively easy to ignore, compared to how oppressive the low moods of those around her were proving to be. "_I _for one felt surprised when Lieutenant Torres agreed to my modifications." She told him lightly, remembering from the day before that little emotional anecdotes like this seemed to please the Commander.

True to form, Chakotay chuckled, a strangely…_warm _sound to her ears, although of course sound waves had no temperature. "No offence Seven, but I never would've thought that would happen."

"Neither did I." Seven freely admitted, "But, to follow the human idiom, I always 'lived in hope' that efficiency would eventually be pursued."

Chakotay's chuckle became a full-bodied laugh, and he felt inordinately pleased with her for her light-heartedness, so different from what he'd previously thought of her. "You know, you've got a much wittier sense of humour than I've given you credit for before Seven."

"Perhaps." Seven conceded, unsettled by the unexpected compliment, "I often misunderstand the simplest of comments."

"You're being too hard on yourself." Chakotay cautioned her kindly, "The experience that will help you understand will come." Seven nodded, although he sensed she was disheartened. The conversation stalled though as they'd reached the doors to Holodeck 1. "Aren't you going to activate a programme?" he asked her as she merely typed in her access code and walked in.

"The 'Sandrine's' programme is already running, it has a piano." Seven replied as they did indeed enter Sandrine's the moment they stepped onto the holodeck, Voyager's favourite watering hole. She caught his confused look, "This programme has been running most days, because the majority of crewmembers enjoy it. It would've been selfish of me, given the circumstances, to run my own private programme when forms of entertainment are so limited."

"Sounds reasonable enough." Chakotay agreed, even as he drew amusement from the shock flashing across the faces of the handful of crewmen who were Sandrine's current patrons. A group of four were playing darts, but his eyes soon found Chell chatting animatedly with Sandrine, apparently helping her mix cocktails. "Having fun there Chell?"

Chell's cheeks took on the dark blue tinge of a Bolian blush. "I'm just…learning a new skill Commander, I… I'm not actually drinking them…"

"You're off-duty Chell." Chakotay reminded him reassuringly, "And given how bored everyone is, I think your cocktail making skills will be in demand, Tom's arranging a party."

Chell's face brightened, any trace of embarrassment gone, as the friends around him pricked up their ears. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Chakotay confirmed, speaking loudly so that Sandrine's customers didn't have to strain in their eavesdropping. He even cast a grin around them for good measure.

"Well…" Sandrine drawled, draping herself over the bar until she nearly fell out of her low-cut dress right in front of Chakotay's eyes, "Tell Monsieur Tom that this place is always open for one of his parties, but that doesn't mean you can have one right now Monsieur Chakotay. I'll make your drink myself."

Chakotay waved her off, "Not right now, but thanks Sandrine."

"Of course." The buxom hologram was visibly disappointed but she soon recovered enough to shoot a significant glance between him and Seven, who had single-mindedly headed straight for the piano at the back of the room. "Tell your _belle mademoiselle _that she's free to use my piano, even without asking. She doesn't exactly play ragtime, but her music does lend the bar some class, and I don't have to pay her."

Chakotay felt his eyebrows rise, picking up on low-level innuendo in her tone and hoping as he did so that Seven couldn't overhear; she was coming out of her shell and he didn't want Sandrine's teasing to push her into withdrawal. "I'll let her know." He eventually replied with a wry chuckle as he began to walk away.

Unbeknownst to him, Seven had actually been paying a great deal of attention to this interaction even as she arranged herself at the piano. Sandrine's spectacle was hard to ignore, with her purposely showing the men a suggestive amount of flesh, punctuating her every, overly accented, word to Chakotay with a bat of her eyelashes. The scene rankled her somehow even as Chakotay came towards her, the vulgar hologram forgotten, but the indecipherable feeling lingered until her welcome to him left her mouth as overly sharp, "Which piece would you like to hear Commander?"

"You're the pianist, you choose." Chakotay offered easily.

Seven fought the frown that started to pull down on her brows, she wasn't used to choosing, the Doctor always had suggestions. She supposed the ability to choose was one of the more pleasurable aspects of individuality, but being presented with it often left her overwhelmed with uncertainty and doubt even for just a split second. "As you wish." She finally conceded, rifling uneasily through her sheets of music and repositioning the metronome as she felt his expectant eyes on her. As if he could sense her irrational nerves, Chakotay settled himself on the small sofa nearest the couch, removing his hovering presence.

She relaxed then, deciding at the moment on the right concerto and taking a deep breath as her fingers came confidently to rest on the smooth keys, beginning to play through muscle memory. The rhythmic movements were just as soothing as working at her console at Astrometrics, the outcome as reassuringly constant. She soon lost herself in the melody; one tinged with melancholy but was ultimately peaceful. Too soon through, she came to the end of the composer's art and let herself be still. Her head reluctantly lifted to see Chakotay's long frame stretched out on the sofa, his eyelids lightly closed, the rise and fall of his chest evenly following the tempo of what she'd been playing. A relieved smile came over her face as she watched him for those few silent seconds, it appeared he'd shared in her moment of calm and peace, and she was glad of it. The Commander certainly wasn't immune to the draining effects of the darkness…

Her musings were interrupted and she felt a flicker of colour dance over her cheeks for a moments as his eyes opened and found hers studying him so intently. He sat up slowly, reluctant to leave the hold her music had over him. "That was beautiful." He murmured sincerely, somewhat dazed before he gave her a gentle smile, "I was wrong; the last thing you need is the Doctor's help with that." He stood up slowly, keeping their gazes locked, "Which concerto is that? I've never heard it before."

Seven straightened on her stool, latching onto the ability to provide facts that would dismiss these unsettling feelings. "It was 'Beethoven's Silence' by Ernesto Cortozar, a 20th Century composer."

"An appropriate title, considering where we are." Chakotay commented as he came to stand beside her at the piano.

"I thought so." Seven agreed shyly, suddenly very self-conscious once again as he leaned over her to read the music in front of her. "Would you like to hear anything else?"

"Well…" A smirk pulled at his full lips, "I still haven't decided whether you could beat my old rendition of 'Chopsticks'."

Seven's hand's tensed on the keys in preparation as she regarded him archly, returning his smirk proudly as she produced 'Chopsticks' with as little effort as taking a breath. "Does that compare?"

"Oh I don't know, I think I played it a little faster…" Chakotay replied teasingly. He should've guessed that the irrepressible Seven of Nine wouldn't let that lie, but he was still awestruck as she took him up on the challenge, playing 'Chopsticks' faster and faster, the dull restraint of the metronome disregarded. He finally surrendered to her when he started to believe he could see smoke rising from her fingers. "Okay, okay, you'd beat me hands down at 'Chopsticks'!" he admitted through his amazed burst of laughter.

Her hands instantly skidded to a halt as she heard him, panting as she slumped over the piano. What he could hear through her heavy breathing however, breathless, girlish laughter, made his smile widen even more than her half giggled reply, "Good, Commander…because my fingers were going numb…" She seemed more shocked than he was by her own lapse into laughter than he was, reining herself in far too soon.

"Remind me never to challenge you to a game of any sport, you're pretty competitive." He told her as he headed back to the sofa, inordinately pleased when she joined him there, though she sat right on the edge.

"You _did _issue me a challenge." Seven reminded him with a small smile, her chest tightening uneasily as a gap was left in their conversation, their 'banter'. The silence made her nervous for some inexplicable reason and she found herself straining to fill it, "So…while I have been exploring music, how have you been filling your time?" She flushed as she realised that question was probably rude, "Not that you don't use your time appropriately to fulfil your duties…"

Chakotay stopped her there, "Seven, there aren't many duties for any of us to do right now are there?" he pointed out gently, "Mostly, I read, a good book can always fill a few hours…" He paused to look at her, "Do you read?" he blurted out curiously, cringing even more than she had as he belatedly realised how insensitive he sounded.

Seven however, didn't seem to see the offence in the question, her answer was utterly unaffected. "I did not previously have an interest in fiction, but I am trying to develop one now." She sighed regretfully, "I have been persevering through a book the Captain recommended to me some time ago, Sir Walter Scott's 'Ivanhoe', but I cannot say I am relishing the experience…"

Chakotay stared at her, "Wait, the Captain told you to read 'Ivanhoe'?" he asked, his incredulity increasing as she nodded. What had Kathryn been thinking? Yes, Scott's writing was famous, and he could see why she, who loved nostalgia, liked it, but the 19th Century writer's florid prose, so rooted in dialect that he had never managed to wade through more than a chapter and so had subsequently failed a semester of literature class in high school, was as well suited to Seven's pragmatic mind as a child's pop-up book. "It may be a classic, but I can see why you don't like it much." He muttered, running a hand repeatedly through his hair, "Look, I've read some good biographies of scientists, Marie Curie, Nils Bohr and so forth, I think you'd like those better."

"But I am already aware of the history of human scientific development." Seven countered, sounding slightly bemused.

"The people behind those discoveries are what make them really interesting though Seven." Chakotay pressed, "There's _life_ under the veneer of relevant facts the Borg have given you…" He stopped himself as he saw pain flutter briefly across her stoic features, he'd dug too deep. He wasn't even sure where all this…passion to convince her of things was coming from; he'd always kept himself distant from Seven's recovery. She'd never been his rescue mission and had, defying the humanitarian sprit he should have followed, had always been marginally proud of his ability to hold back. He'd been pessimistic about her chances from the start, from the moment Janeway had told him in her Da Vinci programme that 'since they'd pulled the plug…' Maybe there had been a little spite too, though towards the drone who'd broken the alliance he'd hated or the Captain who had maintained it to the bitter end he didn't know. "It's got to be more relatable for you than 'Ivanhoe' or that gothic pulp the Captain's probably been feeding you, right?" He tried to end the sermon on a more light-hearted note, but knew it had fallen flat as Seven stiffened further.

"Yes." She agreed stiltedly, "Give me the titles of some books you recommend and I will read them." Despite the civil answer, the onset of distraction was evident in her as her eyes flickered from him, down to her lap and back again. Finally, she appeared to come to a decision, twisting around on the sofa to face him more fully. "Commander, I have made a mistake." She informed him with surprising frankness, though her clear cut voice was faltering.

"What mistake?" Chakotay asked, caught off-guard by the abrupt tightening in his throat, the irrational fear that she was going to reject this time with him as a waste of her time. Seven shifted position again, her alabaster skin paling to grey as she wound herself up. He never would've described Seven as nervous, or fidgety, before now, but at the moment she was practically wringing her scarred hands. "Seven…" He began carefully, just as tentatively reaching out to hold her hands still, "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Seven jumped at the sensation of his strong fingers stubbornly restraining her unconsciously flailing hands, but found that her mind had also been steadied by the touch, its warmth lingering on her skin like a soothing balm even after her deep breath to calm herself gave him leave to let go of her. "I spoke to the Captain." She revealed in a rush, "Yesterday."

Now it was Chakotay's turn to draw back, recoiling against the back of the sofa as he took this unexpected piece of information in. "She let you in?" he asked tightly.

Seven answered with a terse inclination of her head, "Eventually." She answered, "I do not know why I interfered, expressing concern is not something I am experienced at, but I suppose I was as…worried as everyone else."

Chakotay did not look as angry as she'd feared, but then again she couldn't read anything concrete in his inscrutable expression. "And what do you think you said to her that was a mistake?"

Seven bit her lip, unable to describe how much it unsettled her to see the Captain so…broken, but she suspected he knew that feeling as well as she did. "I suppose I attempted to…console her. I pointed out that, although this expanse is monotonous, there are not many known dangers within it." She had to pause to take another breath as she delved deeper into what she had said, "When the Captain expressed…fear for the future, I reminded her that she has guided this crew through first Kazon space, the Nekrit Expanse, Borg Space, and that it would be wrong for her to forget those achievements as she faced this new trial…" She caught Chakotay's eye for a moment before staring resolutely down to the floor, "I also informed her that I have studies the scans Voyager took of the Caretaker's array and came to the conclusion that with its dwindling power reserves, the chances of it having the capacity to send Voyager and the Valjean home, if she had chosen to test it, were less than 30%. In the end, her decision making would've been irrelevant, Voyager was most likely trapped in the Delta Quadrant either way." She blinked hard, fighting back tears of guilt, "I've deepened her depression Commander. That was not my intent…"

"No, no, I know it wasn't." Chakotay assured her, fighting his feelings of disbelief to instead offer comfort. How could Kathryn have been so set in her guilt the morning when Seven had done her best to absolve her of it the day before? He knew that Seven's attempts at comfort would have been tainted by the Borg mannerisms she couldn't help, but the content had been there, with purer motives than he'd had. Was their Captain so lost that she'd loosened her grip on reality altogether? He hadn't been that surprised when Janeway had spurned his support, but he'd never known her to turn away, to reject, the young woman she'd clumsily been trying to nurture. "The Captain is in a place where we can't help her at the moment Seven, no matter how rational and forgiving our words are. I know you did your very best, and it wasn't a mistake to try."

To his surprise when he lifted his head up from where he'd half buried it in his hands, her face had settled into a resigned calm, though when he focused on her eyes he was truly struck by the open well of understanding and compassion she held for him there. "I know you tried your best too." She murmured, awkwardly repeating the comforting gesture he'd offered her by unclenching his tight fist and then briefly squeezing it with her human hand, "The whole crew know."

Chakotay heaved a long sigh that came from deep inside him, his shoulders easing again as he gave her a grateful look, not really able to reply to the subtle vote of confidence. "You know, I think I'm going to have one of those cocktails after all…" He muttered tiredly, starting to stand before glancing questioningly back at her, "Do you want one?"

Seven replied with an apprehensive shake of her head, "The Doctor has advised me to avoid synthehol…"

Chakotay smiled at her, finding her bashfulness endearing, especially after the serious turn their conversation had just been on. "I can get you a virgin one, don't worry." He realised he'd probably used the wrong turn of phrase when her eyes widened, staring up at him blankly. He cleared his throat, though he wasn't sure why he would feel awkward, he wasn't a pre-pubescent boy. "A virgin cocktail means that it's non-alcoholic." He clarified for her.

"Oh." Seven mumbled, before, with admirable presence of mind, she tried to shrug off the inappropriate speculation the phrase had sent through her confused mind. "Another misunderstanding." She let herself relax as he smiled at her encouragingly, "Yes, if there are non-alcoholic cocktails I would like to try one."

"Chell's going to have a heart attack when he hears that he has two non-holographic customers to please." Chakotay joked half-heartedly as he headed off towards the bar.

**A/n: PLEASE REVIEW! :D 'Beethoven's Silence' is a real, and very beautiful, piece of music, I recommend listening to it. My apologies to any fans of Walter Scott, I've let my personal taste seep in there. Please give me any ideas for what C/7, and the crew as a whole, should do to entertain themselves in this fic; I know you'll come up with good ideas! ;)**


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